I distinctly remember the look in my attacker’s eyes. His dark brown, almost black irises, contrasted with the white of his eyeballs. The abyss of his pupils where flexing with just the tiniest of difference in size as they focused on me. His eyes had a look of a lost soul, void of emotion, dead to feeling, and the look of death was written on his face. His face was oval shaped with tiny ears and his head was shaven clean. His nose wide and flared, as he pulled his lips in to his mouth. His eyes grew wider with each stab of the knife. His black skin contrasted to the bright turquoise blue shirt with shocking green stripes down each side of his chest. His grey trousers looked neat and clean, not like someone that lived on the street.

After a few minutes of struggling and almost over powering him, he started to threaten me.

“Stop or I will kill your kids. I’ll kill them.” He shouted words no mother ever wants to hear.

His murderous voice still rings in my ears every time I close my eyes and think back to the day. With the words lingering in the air, I started to pull back, but he still kept on stabbing me. As I retreated he started to say: “Yes, go to sleep, just sleep.” I remembered asking God to please just protect my kids and keep them safe. We fell to the ground.

My head almost hit the tall narrow window next to the closet. My blood spattered as we fell, he on top of me. Just as fast as when he came around the bed, he got up, leaving me on the ground. I was weak and struggled to get up, giving him the opportunity to lock me in my room. I always kept a key in the bedroom door to lock when I left the house. I felt so stupid for leaving the key in the bedroom door. Terror ran through me as I was left on the other side of the door, my children on his and me on the floor bleeding out.

His threat ran continuously through my head with images of slaughtered children disembowelled and beheaded. A blood stalling scream filled the air and I felt my breath leave my body. My heart stood still, frozen in fear of what he was doing to my children. I willed my unmoving limbs to move and I ran to the panic button inside the room. I was praying to God to please let my children live. Images filled my mind again when the deathly silence filled my ears.

I could not hear the siren of the alarm as I focused on the tiniest sound of life from my children. No sound came through the door. I pulled and yanked on the bedroom door, trying to think of what to do, praying the same words over and over like a mantra to keep me sane. Seconds felt like hours. I felt like a person going insane.

When I could not hear anything for a few minutes, any shuffling or walking inside the house, I called out to my son. The relief I felt when he answered can never be described.

“Are you all OK?” I shouted as loudly as I could.

“Yes,” came a disorientated answer through the door. A thankful and grateful sigh left my mouth. Under my breath I gave thanks to God. I asked my son to open the door and when he did, I touched each of my children to see if they were really there. I asked my son where the guy went and he said that he left through the living room window as soon as I pressed the panic button and the siren rang through the air.

Fear that the intruder might have an accomplice waiting outside crippled me and I could not bring myself to leave the house. My phone was stolen and my only means of getting help was the alarm company. For the second time I pressed the panic button and waited for help to arrive.

I started to struggle getting air in my lungs. The stickiness of blood ran slowly down my face, my hands were also covered in blood. The dark brooding clouds formed dimness in the confined space as the walls of the house felt like they were closing in. My blouse stuck to my back with gaping holes in the fabric telling a tale of the sharpness of the blade as it cut clean through cloth and flesh. I knew I needed help and fast.

I summoned up the courage and asked my son to open the door, welcoming the fresh air into my wheezing lungs. I lead my children out into the open air unsure if it is safe, but afraid of the intruder returning to finish what he promised. I kept them close and stayed near the door just in case we had to make our way into the house again. No one arrived and the alarm siren stopped again. I suddenly knew no help was coming.

***

Tell us what you think: What would you do at this point? How would you get help?